The Receptionist

France is the fairest land on earth,
Lovely to heart's desire,
And twice a year I span its girth,
Its beauty to admire.
But when a pub I seek each night,
To my profound vexation
On form they hand me I've to write
My occupation.

So once in a derisive mood
My pen I nibbled;
And though I know I never should:
'Gangster' I scribbled.
But as the clerk with startled face
Looked stark suspicion,
I blurred it out and in its place
Put 'Politician.'

Then suddenly dissolved his frown;
His face fused to a grin,
As humorously he set down
The form I handed in.
His shrug was eloquent to view.
Quoth he: 'What's in a name?
In France, alas! the lousy two
Are just the same.'

Poem topics: , ,

Rate this poem:

Add The Receptionist poem to your favorites

Add Poet Robert William Service to your favorites

Similar Poems
There is no similar poems related to "The Receptionist" poem.
All Robert William Service Poems

Popular Poets

Henry Cust (1 poems)
Joseph Campbell (3 poems)
Lizzie Bowen (0 poems)
Patrick Brontë (12 poems)
Andrew Lang (209 poems)
Sir Aubrey De Vere (1 poems)
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (84 poems)
T. W. Rolleston (5 poems)
Victor James Daley (0 poems)
Velimir Khlebnikov (2 poems)

Popular Poems

Vixit, by John Le Gay Brereton
Hymn 105, by Isaac Watts
The Dogs, by Arthur Symons
Shack Dye, by Edgar Lee Masters
A Day-Dream's Reflection, by William Allingham
Love-Despondency, by Sir Edward Dyer
To Rosabelle, by Robert Louis Stevenson
Portrait Of A Baby, by Stephen Vincent Benét
June Longings, by George Parsons Lathrop
Sonnet Cxlix, by William Shakespeare